


Just a Tad Late

by Mochirimi



Series: Postwickshipping 2020 [2]
Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Day 2, F/M, Hopyu, Jealousy, Just a bit of Bederia, Postwick Week, PostwickShipping, Postwickship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:08:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22674604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mochirimi/pseuds/Mochirimi
Summary: Feb. 10 | Day Two: JealousyDespite what he was once told, Hop learns that jealousy is not a green-eyed monster. It is a vibrant red, a metallic taste in his mouth, andpinkat its very center.
Relationships: Hop & Yuuri | Gloria
Series: Postwickshipping 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1629103
Comments: 6
Kudos: 49





	Just a Tad Late

He wanted to see her. When his research (almost) conclusively directed him to the outskirts of Wyndon, Hop saw it as an opportunity. One stone, two Rookidee or however the saying went. He could study pokemon in their natural habitats and spend time with his best friend, all at the same time. He could finally see her, face to face.

It’d been a while. Weeks apart fell into months, and maybe it was just him but the absence, her absence was all he could think about lately. The fact he didn’t know how she was doing, if she was doing well behind the facade of tabloid presses and celebrity gym rumors left him feeling… unsettled. 

This trip could change that.

Stepping out of the Corviknight taxi cab onto the solid ground of the city, Hop takes in the crisp air, the outline of Wyndon the defining line between the earth and the cerulean sky. All around him, the city is abuzz with the combined cacophony of passersby and pokemon.

And above them all is her, their champion, Galar’s darling, Gloria. Smiling down on them from advertisement banners and commercials playing on the screens of towering businesses, she’s all around and nowhere all at once. None of these Glorias were _his_ Gloria, not the one he knew. This was not the one he missed. 

Pulling out his rotom phone, Hop takes a deep breath and quickly taps the electronic keyboard to shoot the girl in question a quick text. 

_Hey Glo, you busy?_

A call would have been faster… if she even bothered to pick up. He could barely remember the last time she picked up the phone, her voice echoed only in a memory. Glancing across the town map on his phone, Hop pauses across the rotom home screen, a slow smile spreading across his face to match the pair plastered on his screen. 

The picture was from a lifetime ago when Hop was so sure he’d be the one to beat. It was right before they hit the pitch for the first time, their uniforms fresh for the gym challenge. In the picture, young Hop wraps his arm around her, pulling her into the rotom frame with a wide grin, his eyes trained on the camera and her eyes trained on him. 

This was the Gloria he wanted to see. 

There is still no answer to his text.

Maneuvering his way through the crowd, Hop finds himself in front of Wyndon stadium. Even after what seemed like hours, there is still no answer to his text, nothing from Gloria. Just radio silence.

Sticking his hands in his jacket pockets, he takes a steadying breath, inhaling the determination, exhaling the doubt. In front of him, the gym is a looming scarlet bloom, imposing against the contrasting sky. Gloria is just busy, didn’t get the chance to answer his text before she was pulled into the next thing. After all, there is no way she was avoiding him, was she? 

The thought, the fear sticks to the roof of his mouth. It’s sour, its edges bitter. And no matter how much he tries to swallow, to dilute the unsettling taste, it remains present and vibrant as ever. Walking through the sliding glass doors of the building, Hop is met with a rush of warm air and an acute awareness that this isn’t quite where he belongs. Not anymore. 

Inside, the league staff mill about, talking with aspiring trainers, giving advice, diverting attention away from the one trainer they all wanted to see. Finding one unattended, Hop smiles, asking the question on all who came to Wyndon stadium, “Hey, I was wondering if you could help me find Glo- I mean the Champion?”

Reflected in the staff’s sunglasses, Hop knows exactly what he must look like, a fan like all the rest, here to meet and challenge the reigning champion to a battle. His expression is almost apologetic because not too many years ago that would _exactly_ what he’d be doing, revving up to almost Raihan standards of excitement and ferocity at the chance to challenge the champion for the title or something like that. 

And that’s exactly how the staff member stood looking at him now, sizing him up behind the sunglasses. 

“I’m a friend.” He adds, his voice strangling on the last word. He hated that. 

His face is bulbous in the glasses’ black reflection as the small figure in front of him takes their time in deciding whether to divulge the precious information to the almost stranger in front of them.  
“And who exactly are you?” An eyebrow peeks out above the black.

This was ridiculous. Heaving a heavy sigh, Hop runs a hand through his bristled hair and pulls out his rotom. “Look, you must be new, mate ” he begins. He didn’t want to be rude, but he isn’t about to be given the runaround either. “I’m Hop, the previous champion’s little brother? The _current_ champion’s best friend in the whole world? Ring any bells? I mean come on!” He points at the picture on his phone, exasperated. If little Hop and Gloria couldn’t convince this person, he hadn’t a clue what to do.

Lucky for him, it’s enough for the staff member. With a nod, the staff member steps closer, quickly evaluating the area lest anyone else hear the information. “Between you and me, she’s doing a photoshoot at that park across the bridge. An exclusive on the champion in her favorite places in Wyndon and all that.” 

That is all he needs to hear before Hop is gone, running towards his destination before she can run, before he has no idea where she’s at. Cold air rushes and contracts through his lungs, because finally, _finally_ he’d see her in person, and just _know._

Surprisingly, the park is a small attraction in the city, with fewer people enjoying its green hues and abnormally blooming flowers. In the middle of winter, the city was a climate wonder like that. But then again, people didn’t come to Wyndon for its growing flora. 

Catching his breath, calming his heart rate, Hop surveys the area, looking for the familiar petite figure, the brown blunt bob of hair on a head against the beautiful scenery. The further into the park he wanders, the more Hop understands why Gloria would use this park as her place of escape. At it’s deeper edges the park is unruly, growing more into its natural shape than into the manicured look its initial face offers. It reminds him a little of her Postwick garden.

When he hears the familiar uninhibited laugh echo the short distance where he stands, his heart stirs, races, and he swears at least a hundred Butterfree had made a home of his stomach. That was her laugh. 

Doing his best to calm his racing heart, to find the words to say when he pushes through the trees and garden brush, the world is put on hold. Any words, anything, everything immediately dies on his tongue. 

The scene he finds himself in is unreal.

Among the flashing cameras is Gloria, sitting in a ring of daisies, garbed in chiffon and flowers. The image isn’t that different from other ad campaigns featuring her figure, but wow what a difference a few months make because even with every ad campaign splashed across Galar, nothing holds up to the real thing.

Her chocolate brown hair is longer than he remembers, pulled up in a haphazard ponytail, the style exposing her long neck, her sharper features. She isn’t the little kid he used to lead on the charge, or even the girl he used to take every opportunity to hone his skills against in battle. This girl is different, beautiful… and completely foreign from the one he expected.

That is, until he saw her smile, laugh her rough and unadulterated laugh that couldn’t be refined no matter how much she used to try over the years. The soft expression on her face, the way her brown eyes cast delight and amusement. That, he knows, that he recognizes. 

Relief fills him like cooling water over the panic, and immediately freezes over when he finally notices what, and more importantly _who_ the smile, who the laugh is for. Spread across the grass and flowers, with his head in Gloria’s lap is Bede. Something in Hop stirs as he notes how she plays with his silver strands with her free hand as the two remain rapt in conversation, the cameras catching every moment in memoriam.

It could have been anyone else. No, it should have been _anyone_ else but _Bede_ in that position. Anyone else and Hop is sure this sight wouldn’t nearly bother him as much as this one does. The guy was a jerk, far harsher in his treatment of opponents and rivals than was actually necessary. So why was a guy like that, that clearly didn’t deserve this spot in the photoshoot or Gloria’s heart-

Before Hop can press further on this blistering wound, his thoughts shy away.. Because maybe he didn’t want to know the answer. 

Is this why she’s been ignoring his messages? His calls? 

Did Gloria replace him. 

She laughs again, her smile wide at whatever the fairy gym leader said. A hand reaches up to press against her cheek and the laughter quiets. From his vantage point, he can see Gloria’s expression, the way she calms under the touch, how the smile dims but grows warmer, less like the sun and more like honey-glazed amber in a warm palm. 

And it kills him that it isn’t him. It doesn’t matter if it is Bede or anyone else in that position because that role, the one who should’ve said something before, who should be the reason for that expression burned and branded clear in his brain is him. It should have always been him.

In his retreat back to the main parts of the city, Hop kicks rocks and sends sighs to the sky. That was it then right? He’d lost. Before he even realized he was competing for something so precious, it was snatched out of his hand who understood it’s value before he did.

**Author's Note:**

> kjafhkajhfjgkdf Obviously, this prompt is a day late. And plot twist, I'm going to be late for today's too;; oops.  
> However, I hope you enjoyed a dork who's just starting to recognize he has feelings.  
> As I mentioned, all my one-shots for this week are in the same timeline.  
> This one happens before "Flashlights." 
> 
> Thank you for taking the time to read this!
> 
> Okay bye!


End file.
